


Which One?

by Davechicken



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: F/M, Healthy jealousy play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-23 03:19:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10711077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: They like to tell stories, to get one another fired up.





	Which One?

“Tell me,” he says, as they sit with masks on. Not physical masks, not over their faces.   


Fake ones. Fancy clothes. Two tall, but ‘normal’ people, sitting in a bar, nursing drinks like they’ve just walked out of the office. Or maybe they’re on a date. Maybe this is the first date, and that’s why she looks around the room so much, her fingers sliding rainbow-grease smears over the translucent glass.

“Tell me which one.”  


She looks around, her tongue tasting the sweetness of her drink on her pretty-pink lips. “That one,” she says, a finger pointing from around the glass.

It is a game, and only they can play it.

His knee brushes hers, under the high table, and he leans on his elbows, coming closer like the night. “What would you say to him?”

“My hand around his tie, and I’d pull him to my lips. I’d whisper in his ear how I wanted to suck him. How I wanted to drop to my knees and show him the stars.”  


He looks at the other: young, strong, handsome. He could be a threat, if he were half the man his rival is, but he has no idea of the game, and thus will always lose. 

“How would you do it?”  


“I’d take him into the stalls. Stride with my heels clipping the floor. Everyone would see us go inside, and no one would dare stop us. His hands on the door, keeping it shut, as you come in to force it open, to drag me from his cock…”  


The man could never win, because neither would let him. He doesn’t know he’s part of their play, and he doesn’t know that a hand moved, under the table. Sliding up below the hem of her skirt, reaching the soft, fine panties. Drenched, already, and so easily as his finger traces over the dewdrops. 

“Would you let him touch you?”  


“Not once. Not a finger on me.”  


He pushes the fabric aside, and slips between her folds. She’s dripping and ready, and no one can see, because their eyes skitter away. 

He strokes her lips, and plays with the gentle swelling, the thickening that begs for his skill. No one can touch her there but him, but that doesn’t stop this.

“I’d push past you when you opened the door. Walk out, and into the night. My breasts ready, my nipples aching for someone to touch…”  


They are. They’re hard, and ready, and pushing at the skimpy fabric.

He bends his fingers into her, and she bites her lip at the rough touch. 

“Go back to our room. Call you. You’re locked out, but you can watch the holo as I slide my fingers into… into myself… as I pinch my breast and find my clit…”  


“You wouldn’t let me inside?”  


“You didn’t save me in time. You didn’t come save me, and take me for yourself.”  


Two fingers, and she squelches around him, her nub under his thumb. No one can see, he makes sure of that, but his eyes tell her all she needs to know.

“You’re mine,” he growls, and shunts one last time before he pulls his hand out, and lifts it to his lips to lick.  


“Show me,” she says, and her heels hit the floor as she strides back towards their room.  


He’ll fuck her so hard her throat will be as raw as her cunt. She’ll _love it._


End file.
